The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (44 page)

Of course, with so much already stashed onboard he could have simply abandoned the slaves and fled, leaving forever the island that he had long called home.  Tallun’s nature, however, was not one that would willingly abandon wealth no matter how much he had in hand.  The payoff for so many young and beautiful female slaves was far too enticing.

As he led his men through the streets of Kylee he found himself thinking of the defiant tall woman.  What was it she had told him?  That her man would find him wherever he was hiding and crush the life from him with his bare hands.  That little bug of fear that had burrowed its way into Tallun’s mind after hearing the threat now wiggled its legs just enough to let him know that it was still there.  A shiver vibrated his spine.  Bare hands?  What fear did he have of a man with bare hands?  He would meet any challenge with a seaman’s sword but the bug wiggled again.

He turned onto a wide street and he and his men took turns running across it to the narrow alley on the other side.  Once they were all across Tallun looked ahead and saw the building in which the slaves were being held.  It was in front of them on the opposite side of the street.  There were only six more intersections to cross.

***

Taggart, Lyyl and Geraar were meeting armed resistance more often as they drew closer to the harbor area.  So far they had been able to prevail when they had been forced to fight.  Taggart felt the knife wound in his back burn as his sweat dripped onto it.  Though painful, the bleeding had diminished, and it would not be a major factor.

Geraar had suffered a cut along his jawline, but it did not appear to be a major injury.  The three ran as quickly as they could through the streets, pausing now and again as Tinker tried to locate the mindscent of her mate.  Taggart was just getting worried that something had happened to him when Tinker sat up straight on his shoulder and let out a loud chirp.  It was the animal’s version of a happy shout, and he knew at once that she had connected with Pan.

Taggart signaled for them to stop then found a recessed doorway which they stepped into.  All three of them were breathing heavily from exertion.  He took Tinker down from her perch and held her in his outstretched hands.  She leaned forward until her paws touched the big man’s face.  Lyyl and Geraar watched quietly as the two went silent and still.  They both knew what was happening and were careful not to interrupt, they just kept watch while it transpired.  After a brief moment Taggart seemed to come back to the present.  He turned to the others with a smile.  “I know where they are, and Dwan is with them.”

After that the two warriors were hard pressed to keep up with him.  His longer legs pumped like pistons, propelling him onward.  When they rounded a corner and were confronted with seven members of the town guard he never even slowed.  The pirates were heading to join up with larger elements of the guard and were unprepared for seeing a man of Taggart’s size running at them at top speed.  Three of them broke for an alley, abandoning their brothers in favor of their own safety.  The other four turned toward him with weapons drawn.  Lyyl and Geraar redoubled their efforts to catch up with Taggart so they could offer him assistance, but they could see that they would not reach him before he joined with the enemy.

Even though the planet Olvion was smaller than Earth and had a lighter gravity Taggart still had twice the mass of an ordinary man here.  Instead of slowing down he ran faster when he saw the pirates.  His only thought was that Dwan was here, she needed his help, and these men were between him and her.  He raised his mace and ducked his head.

Taggart hit the four pirates like a freight train.  Two of them were bowled off of their feet immediately.  One of them had been able to time his approach and met him with a lunging sword.  The motion of his falling comrades jiggled his aim at the last moment, but he was still able to draw blood along Taggart’s ribcage. The action earned him a killing swipe of the heavy spiked mace head.  The weapon plowed into the pirate’s neck.  The man’s head bent over at an unnatural angle, and he dropped into the mud.

The other standing adversary was armed with a shield and axe.  He was raising the axe when Taggart delivered a punishing front kick.  The shield caught the full power of the blow, but the energy of it propelled the pirate backward into a vined trellis.  The springiness of the apparatus protected him from much harm, but, when it sprang him back toward Taggart, he was struck senseless by a simple punch to the jaw.

The two pirates who had been knocked down earlier had now recovered their feet and attacked.  One had a javelin, and he thrust it at the bigger man.  Taggart dodged the weapon then had to duck when the second man swung a sword swipe at his head.

The javelin man tried another poke, but Taggart timed the attack and grabbed the end of his weapon.  The pirate struggled, refusing to release the weapon.  The action cost him his life.  Taggart pulled him forward and brought the mace down directly on top of his head.  It did not make for a pretty sight. 

The pirate wielding the sword took advantage of Taggart’s attention to the javelin man and swung at his legs.  Taggart saw the blade coming and jumped back.  The front leg was spared by the leap, but the rear leg was sliced near the knee.  The last pirate had no time to celebrate or follow up on his attack because he had made the mistake of getting too close to his large foe.  Taggart let his mace dangle from its wrist strap.  He grabbed the man’s neck in one hand and his sword hand in the other.  When he squeezed, the pirate’s eyes bulged.  The man dropped to his knees and then fell motionless.  Taggart did not know if he was dead or merely unconscious.  He only knew that he no longer stood between him and Dwan.

Taggart turned to continue his sprint, but Lyyl shouted for him to stop.  He and Geraar had just caught up with him and Taggart stood impatiently while Lyyl tore a strip of cloth from one of the fallen pirate’s clothing and wrapped it around his leg wound.  The cut wasn’t deep, but it bled freely.  As soon as the knot was tied the three sped off again.

***

The remaining pirates at the barricade launched a volley of arrows at the warriors.  Jo-Dal had lost his patience with the defenders and ordered a responding volley of their own.  The lethal shafts, guided by the practiced accuracy of the soldiers, sought out targets with deadly efficiency.  Several dozen of the people behind the blockade dropped, some screaming, others silently.  As soon as the archers had delivered their volley Jo-Dal gave the order to attack.  The warriors raced forward.  They athletically vaulted the materials which were used to make the fortification and engaged the pirates in close-quarters combat. 

The pirates were seasoned fighters.  They had experience in engaging others with sword and axe, but in their typical combat scenario they employed the tactic of overwhelming numbers while taking over a ship at sea or raiding a caravan on land.  In this situation they found themselves to be badly outnumbered.  Thirty seconds after the attack had been ordered some sixty of the townspeople and town guardsmen lay dead behind their barrier.  The other fifty or so knelt with empty hands raised in surrender.

Every warrior carried a length of strong braided cord as part of his or her battle pack.  Jo-Dal had some of them use their cords to secure the hands of the pirates behind their backs.  He then called in his reserve/support formation and peeled off a hundred warriors to keep the prisoners under control.  Jo-Dal had no intention of seeing them get free and having to fight them again and the code of the warrior forbade him from simply killing them.  This allocation of warriors would be costly with them already being outnumbered.  Once he was certain that the captives were taken care of he ordered his people forward.

The warriors’ support unit had originally consisted of three hundred soldiers.  Jo-Dal now split the remaining two hundred into equal numbers and detailed each one to shadow the main body on either side as they navigated the streets of Kylee.  In this way Jo-Dal made certain their formations were not flanked.

Leaving the scene of the barricade, the warriors streamed through the streets heading toward the harbor.  Jo-Dal expected to meet their greatest resistance there because that location would have given the town guard the most time to set up for a battle.  Fauwler had warned of a few thousand pirates, all from the crews of the new Council of Captains.  They were expected to fight hard because they had the most to lose.  If the island government fell they would forfeit their privileged positions and their livelihoods.  No pirate captain could operate for long without the safe haven of Kylee to run to.  So Jo-Dal was worried.  He had no qualms regarding the abilities of his people.  He estimated that his trained and disciplined troops were the equal of any three pirates, but they were on unfamiliar territory.  That meant they were ceding to the pirates the advantages of numbers and knowledge of the city layout.  The delay at the first barricade had cost them much of their element of surprise.

Jo-Dal sent out twenty warriors to act as an advance guard.  The remaining nine hundred or so fighters moved carefully but quickly toward the harbor.  They saw many of the inhabitants of Kylee along the way, but no one had challenged them yet.  There were dozens who pointed to red rags tied to their arms when they were encountered.  They were waved on.  Many second and third story shutters opened revealing observers.  Jo-Dal was surprised to hear some shouting approving comments.  They passed one green grocer shop the doors of which were open as if this were a normal day.  A man who was presumed to be the proprietor stood outside with his arms folded.  He wore a red rag tied to his left arm and nodded to the passing soldiers, continuing to place his fruits on the display racks.

The sounds of squawking seabirds and crashing waves surrounded the waterfront.  Lampte stood on the seawall and surveyed the scene taking place in front of him.  The harbor area was large, having approximately five hundred yards of flat and undeveloped land stretching from the piers to the edges of the town.  Breadth-wise it spanned almost an eighth of a mile.  The room was needed for the purpose of offloading and handling the cargos of the many ships which docked there.  To their west was the long approach to the harbor.  This would be the battleground in the final fight for control of Kylee. 

Lampte lifted his eyes to the bluffs which had always protected them from invasion by sea.  He saw no loaded catapults or flaming braziers ready to spill their deadly contents down upon enemy ships entering the harbor approach.  The only reason for such a situation to exist was that it had been overrun.  Lampte had earlier sent a dozen men to determine the status of the preparations on the bluffs.  The fact that none of those men had returned told him all that he needed to know.

Now the de facto ruler of Kylee searched the sea behind him.  No fewer than fifty ships were heading for the harbor run.  Lampte recognized the “Dreadnaught” and several other flagships including the one captained by Jile.  He wanted to think that the ships were coming to rescue his governance of the island, but, in his heart of hearts, he knew that not to be the truth.

For the hundredth time this morning Lampte wondered how things had gone so wrong.  Only now had he realized his mistake in allowing himself to be persuaded to authorize a slavery market in Kylee.  How had he been so stupid?  Alas, he knew the answer.  It was greed.  It was always greed.  When Tallun and the other new members of the council had proposed the idea Lampte initially rejected it.  As the discussions wore on, however, he found himself being slowly and inexorably drawn to the lure of easy and abundant riches.  He was assured that, as Governor of the Council, he would receive a portion of every sale made on the island.  He discarded his own knowledge of his people in favor of assurances by Tallun’s allies that all would welcome the new injections of wealth.  Now, here he was.  Half of the population was in revolt against the new policies, and the rest were teetering on the edge of joining them.  Only now did Lampte recognize that the driving force behind Kylee, the very reason for its existence, was to be an escape from slavery and the indignities of serfdom to the nobles in this land.

The sea winds whipped Lampte’s beaded hair.  He looked to the piers and saw Tallun’s five ships rocking on the waves, their rigging creaking.  The ships were loaded and fully manned.  There was no doubt that Tallun had intended to make off to other slavery-friendly ports with his human inventory.  Lampte allowed himself a small smirk.  At least that would not happen.  The ships in the harbor would never allow Tallun to slink away unharmed.

Bringing himself back to the situation at hand, Lampte examined the collection of seamen and mercenaries who were arrayed before him.  As best he could determine the town guard had four thousand fighters, give or take a few hundred.  The seamen could be counted on because they were in the same situation as he was.  They had no other place in which to flee, and they would be determined to hold on to the wealth and power that came with their captains being on the Council.

He was not as certain regarding the mercenaries.  Kylee had always kept a thousand or so of the sword-sellers around to help buttress their abilities to repel invasion.  These men were motivated by profit alone.  Earlier, Lampte had passed the word that each man would receive a handsome bonus when the battle was won.  He hoped it was enough to ensure their loyalty.  Lampte was encouraged by the fact that a fair number of the townspeople had joined their efforts.  These people had no love of slavery but were here to fight against any attempts to invade their home.

The harbor area had been transformed into a hardened theater of war.  There were rows and rows of barricades composed of wagons, boxes, crates and anything else which would pose an impediment to the attackers.  The battle plans for the defense of Kylee had been drawn up many years earlier.  They had actually been conceived for the purpose of defending the waterfront from a seaward attack.  Now the focus had simply been shifted to the other direction.

Along the eastern edge of the wharves stood a huge and hulking warehouse which acted as a temporary storage for offloaded goods.  Lampte, following the battle plan, had deployed two hundred men to occupy the building.  The old edifice had numerous elevated windows and doors which alleviated the heat inside during the summer months.  These openings would be manned by archers, creating a killing field which should result in protection from being flanked from that direction.  He hoped.  Lampte had been overseeing the defenses all morning and had been forced to cut corners in the written defense plans in order to get everything in place before the invaders reached the waterfront.

Along the front battle line facing landward was a wide row of hay.  It had been soaked in collected grease and alcohol.  The tactic here would be to engage the invaders on the far side of the hay then appear to be beaten back until the enemy forces were directly in the middle of the trap.  Then the treated hay would be set ablaze and the resulting fire should score a considerable number of kills among the enemy.  Again, Lampte hoped.

***

Jo-Dal executed a head-fake to the left.  When the attacking pirate redirected his guard to that side The Commander of Aspell warriors thrust his sword to the right and into the man’s throat.  Like most warrior commanders, Jo-Dal led his men in more ways than one.  He not only devised the strategies they would employ in combat, he was also always at the front of any attack formation.  His fighters had just broken through the last of some twenty different skirmishes that had come mostly from members of the Kylee town guard.  With his military knowledge, he was aware that the purpose of the skirmishes had been to delay his forces so that preparations for the major battle at the waterfront could be completed.  The tactic had been costly to the pirates.  None had survived.  Jo-Dal wondered if they had known that their commander had sacrificed them foolishly.  The delays had been miniscule.  The only result was the blood on his uniform.

There was now only a single line of buildings obscuring their vision of the waterfront.  The warrior commander’s advance guard had returned and given him a detailed description of the preparations that the pirates had constructed.  Most of it was what they had been told to expect by Fauwler.

Jo-Dal now divided his fighters into four individual bodies.  One group of a hundred would travel east and assault the warehouse.  A second hundred would head for the west and try to clear any pirates from the piers at that end of the harbor so Fauwler’s ships could dock unmolested.  The remaining warriors were halved into two assault parties of three hundred and fifty each.  These two latter troupes would engage the pirate’s fortifications.

With any luck, the enemy would be kept totally engaged by Jo-Dal’s warriors until Fauwler’s seamen could disembark and join the fray.  Since the allied seamen had a little over a thousand fighters among them, the addition of their efforts into the battle should swing things the right way.  That was the plan anyway.

***

Tallun and his eight crewmen arrived at the slave quarters just as Jo-Dal, and his warriors were maneuvering into position to attack the harbor barricades.  The street upon which the building was located was eerily quiet and deserted.  Sounds of fighting could be heard, but they were several streets away.  Tallun felt an icy trickle of sweat run down his backbone.  Every moment that they delayed, the chances of recovering his human inventory and successfully escaping to the sea were diminishing.  At this point he was not aware of the approach of Fauwler’s fleet.

The men thundered up the board porch and pushed their way inside.  They went straight to the stairs that led to the cellar.  Tallun produced the key and turned the lock, but the door did not open.  He put his shoulder to it and strained.  Still, it would not budge.  Shouting curses he yelled at his men to break it down.  They had no time for the infuriating antics of the captive women.

In the cellar, Toria heard the attempts of the pirates to force the door.  She and Tay ran up the stairs and threw themselves against it, trying to overcome their efforts.  Dwan signaled her women to split into two groups helping to barricade the two doors.

The stairway landing was narrow and would allow only two of the women at a time to push against the door.  The debris that they had piled against it earlier added weight to the project.  The women heard the men on the other side cursing and shouting threats about what would happen to them if they did not open the door.  Instead the women got behind Tay and Toria and added their body weight to the barrier.  The door rattled and shook and even bowed inward, but it held.

Then there was a crash from below.  An assault was being made on the other door leading in from the alley.  Toria left Tay above and rushed to help the other women hold the lower door.  This one was of a larger and heavier construction, but the force being applied to it seemed considerably stronger.  The women were rocked back and forth as the door bent inward, straining at the lock and sills.  Toria looked up at Tay and shook her head.

Then there was a crashing and Tay and the others at the top of the cellar stairs were thrown backwards and down the stairs.  Two women lost their footing and tumbled down several steps.  Two pirates finished splintering the door and pushed their way through.  Tay leapt forward to attack, but was punched full in the face by one of the men.  She was propelled backward and fell unconscious onto the landing.  The other women grabbed her limp body and pulled her down to the cellar.  More men came through the ruined portal, and then there was a furious shout.  Some of the women shuddered when they recognized the voice of Captain Tallun.

“You!”  Tallun advanced down the stairs.  He was pointing a long gnarled finger at Dwan.  “This is your doing.  You have been a strain on my tolerance since the day you were taken.”

The captain walked slowly down the stairs as he spoke.  The other eight men followed him, waiting for his instructions.  They all carried the thick, wooden dowels which they intended to use to inflict painful strikes in the herding of the slaves.  They were also fully armed with swords and knives.

“You!” he said again, still pointing at Dwan.  “I have protected you from serious harm when all of my men advised me to make of you an example.”

Dwan met his stare evenly with no obvious fear.  The pounding on the lower door continued.

“I protected you, and how am I repaid?” Tallun asked.  He glared at Dwan, then all of the other women.  He did not seem to notice Toria or the unconscious Tay as being new to the group.  “Well no more,” he shouted.  “You shall finally discover what happens when one exceeds my patience.  You will spend the voyage chained to my cot. I will show you the manner in which slaves are supposed to serve.  By the time we make port you will have no more pride, no more defiance.  You will be a simple slave slut, happy to satisfy the smallest wish of your master.  This I promise you.”

For the first time Tallun noticed the pounding on the lower door.  “What is that?” he demanded.  He gestured to one of his men.  “Pax, open the door.  It must be the town guard.  We will need their help getting back to the piers.”

The pirate that Tallun had signaled approached the knot of women gathered at the door.  He raised his hands over his head and growled while striding toward them.  All but one screamed and retreated from the door.  The pirates laughed.  The only woman who did not run was Toria.  She stood calmly between the door and the lone pirate.  In her hands she held two knives.  One was long and wickedly curved, the other shorter, but still deadly in its design.  The pirates had no knowledge of the art of fighting with the Tooth and Claw.

The pirate named Pax looked at the woman and shook his head.  “Are you aiming to scare me, Love?  A thread of a girl such as yourself?”

It was true, Toria was small, even for a woman of Olvion.  She stood only as tall as the pirate’s shoulder.  She did not move as he advanced, even when he shoved his dowel into his belt and withdrew his knife.  The pounding on the door behind her continued.  Now that the weight of the other women was removed it started to splinter inward.

Tallun frowned.  “Stop mucking about, Pax.  She is baring weapons against you.  Do you need help to kill a small girl?”

The other pirates laughed.  Pax’s face reddened.  He turned to hold his knife hand out in front of himself.  Bending his knees he slid his feet forward as he prepared to attack.

The door from the alleyway popped and cracked as the assault upon it from outside increased.

Toria lunged.  Suddenly Pax was looking at the hand that formerly held his knife.  There were two long and bloody slices on it.  One was along his wrist.  It dripped blood onto the floor.  The other cut had severed muscle and nerves.  His knife was still ringing from its collision with the floor. 

There was silence in the room.  The girl’s attack had been so swift that few had even seen her move.  The watching women cheered.

Pax snarled and shifted his gaze from his ruined hand to Toria.  “You slut of a cur-beast.  You will die slow and in agony for that.”

“No,” Toria answered.  “You will die and it will be so fast you will not see it coming.”

Pax drew his sword with his uninjured hand.  He swung it left and right a few times to get a feel for the weapon in his weak hand.  Then he growled and leapt forward.  He meant to cut the little woman in two with a backhanded slash of the broad-bladed weapon.  Instead the girl ducked down, then up, avoiding the blade, and was now standing nose to nose with the pirate.